


Honey is for Bees, Silly Bear

by ipanicdaily



Series: The Life and Times of Anthony Stark: Family Man [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Babyfic, Fluff, M/M, Superfamily, doubts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2012-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 23:24:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ipanicdaily/pseuds/ipanicdaily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Tony would freak out and rush to the baby’s room, find him peacefully dreaming whatever babies had dreams about, and sit outside the room until he could see rays of sunlight start to stretch into the tower before stumbling back to bed.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>In which Tony has doubts about being a father and Steve is perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honey is for Bees, Silly Bear

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from [Lullabye](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B6VLmVvdRv8) by Fall Out Boy.

The tower was quiet in the early hours of the morning. Everyone was usually in bed by midnight, or at the very least quietly doing their own thing in their own space while the others slept. Once in a great while more than one conscious body would be in the same room, often sparking impromptu television and movie marathons ending in uncomfortable positions and a series of aches that lasted hours before relief. 

Tony liked early morning the most.

He was awake more than he was asleep, having one of the worse insomnia cases that only eased up two, maybe three times a week for the briefest of periods. A few years ago, before the Avengers, Tony would spend his hours in the lab getting so much done at once as his brain functioned best when overtired. But now, having everyone under one roof, Tony tried to avoid making too much noise out of courtesy – even if his lab was soundproof and floors away from the bedroom.

Instead Tony would mess around on his tablet or work off some energy in the gym or even get real food in his system if he felt ambitious enough (or if Bruce was still up because Bruce would cook and then talk science with Tony and it was the perfect bromance). Occasionally Steve would even be up with Tony, especially if PTSD struck with a violent nightmare, and they’d snuggle up on the couch to watch old movies because they made Steve happy, and _Steve made Tony happy_.

And if Clint was awake, Tony tried to avoid him, because without fail they somehow always made a huge mess and pissed everyone off fairly quickly. 

But lately, Tony was kept awake by something completely different than the insomnia. Reality plagued him; fear and anxiety and general paranoia were eating away at him night after night. Out of all the things Tony imagined happening to him – of all the things that _had_ happened – he never once imagined himself a father. 

Yet, there was a piece of paper representing legal documentation that bore his elegant signature on the line hovering above **legal parent/guardian** , and a room with a crib and an actual living, breathing human now a part of his life. The thought made him hyperventilate a bit. 

Tony sat in the hall just outside the baby’s room with his back against the wall and arms wrapped tight around his bent knees, holding them close to his chest. He’d left Steve alone in bed some time ago, having the nagging urge to check on the child to ensure he was okay despite Jarvis verbalizing he was. He trusted his AI with his life, but Tony had to see for himself. 

He didn’t know much about kids, he kind of skipped that phase in his own life, but Tony found it odd the baby would be so quiet all night. Weren’t they supposed to cry a lot at all hours? He’d checked the stupid little monitor Pepper had gotten to make sure it worked properly and concluded that this baby was just abnormal. Not many babies sleep the whole night and not cry. 

Still, Tony found himself constantly hovering over the crib with worried eyes to check if the kid was still breathing. The glow of the reactor lit up the soft features of the baby; tiny fingers clenched in loose fists and lips periodically twitching around the pacifier held securely in his mouth. His chest rose and fell in rhythm to his breaths and Tony would slump with a sigh because everything was fine. 

It always was. Tony would freak out and rush to the baby’s room, find him peacefully dreaming whatever babies had dreams about, and sit outside the room until he could see rays of sunlight start to stretch into the tower before stumbling back to bed. 

Soft footsteps moved across polished wood towards Tony as though clockwork to his mental breaks. Silently, Steve sat down beside Tony, legs outstretched and arm wrapping around Tony’s shoulders. Steve gently pulled at Tony to urge him closer and Tony let his body be moved, resting his head against Steve’s warm shoulder as Steve’s head rested against his. Steve slowly rubbed up Tony’s bicep, other hand prying Tony’s hands apart and away from his knees to bring a hand into his lap and lace their fingers. 

Not once since discovering Tony in the hallway had Steve questioned why or try to pull him away. From the first time all he’d do was sit beside Tony and slowly get him to unwind, making himself available for whenever Tony decided to talk about whatever was weighing on his mind – even when it had nothing to do with the baby. And if it was cold, Steve would drag the blanket from their bed along too, tucking them together beneath it and waiting for Tony to decide when he could get up and actually return to the bed. 

Perfect didn’t begin to describe Steve.

Tony let his knees drop against Steve’s thigh and closed his eyes, already feeling his mind begin to clear and body relax with the other man’s presence. He always wanted Steve there at times like these, but Tony would never wake him. However, Steve often woke if Tony was gone too long and went to find him, resulting in the two of them on the hard floor in the darkest hours of the night. 

Drawing in a deep breath, Tony asked, “Why’d you pick me?” though he’s heard the answer a million times over.

“Because you were the only logical choice to me,” Steve calmly replied, dragging the tips of his fingers lazily against Tony’s arm now. “And because I don’t picture myself having a family with anyone else.” 

Tony sighed heavily. “This is a bad idea. I’m not father material. My own was hardly an acceptable example. I don’t know how to raise a kid.”

Steve kissed the top of his head. “No one knows,” he said. “You can read every book, and watch every documentary and movie, and take every class, and you’ll still be unprepared when it happens because every child is different. Being a parent is a learning experience. Howard may not have been the best –“ Tony dryly snorted, “- but now you know what not to do.” Steve nuzzled Tony. “And I have full faith and confidence that you’re going to be an excellent father to Peter.”

Tony pressed closer to Steve. “What if I mess up though?”

“Of course you’re going to mess up. We both will. Probably a lot. All parents do.”

“What if I break him or something? They’ll take him away.”

Steve silently chuckled, the movement bouncing Tony’s head. “You won’t break him, Tony, and no one is going to take him away. Not as long as I’m around. Not as long as any of us are around – Bruce, Tasha, Clint, Thor; all of us are going to protect him. That’s what families do.”

Steve tugged Tony into his lap, spreading his legs enough for Tony to sit between them and lean back against Steve. Tony used the rhythm breathing to steady and calm his own, relaxing more when Steve’s arms wrapped securely around his waist. “Peter’s going to grow up the happiest kid in New York and call you dad and probably love you most of all because he’ll know how you’d spend every night checking up on him to make sure he was okay, even when Jarvis said he was.”

“My apologies for waking you, sir,” Jarvis spoke softly from overhead. 

Tony hummed, lips curving into a smile. “He’ll love you the most because you’re Captain America.”

Steve laughed again. “And you’re Iron Man. You _built_ your power, and the energy you both run on.” His hand trailed up to rest over the reactor. “And you’re so smart that you think people understand what you’re saying, but really we all just smile and nod.” 

Tony snorted again, more lightheartedly. “You’ve become quite sassy, Cap.”

“You’re a bad influence,” Steve kissed Tony’s neck. “Mr. Stark.” 

Tony twisted his head awkwardly to kiss Steve on the lips, squeezing the arms around him. He still wasn’t quite sure when things between him and Steve went from tense bickering to absolute bliss, but Tony wouldn’t trade their relationship for the world. His life was hell and chaos and incredibly disorganized before Steve.

Now it was hell and chaos and incredibly disorganized with _pure happiness_. A huge improvement, really. 

It was then that a loud wail rang out and broke them apart, forcing Tony’s heart to skip a beat or two. Steve only kissed him again and patted Tony’s arm, releasing him. “He’s probably hungry. He didn’t finish everything before he went to sleep,” Steve reassured him. “How about you get him and I’ll go grab a bottle?” 

“I don’t- I can’t-“ Tony shook his head. Whenever Peter cried, Steve was the one to soothe him. Steve was really good at it. 

“You can,” Steve encouraged and nudged at Tony to move. “I promise you’ll be fine,” he said, standing. Steve helped Tony up and turned him towards the room before heading down the hall to the kitchen. 

Tony hesitated a moment, listening to the distressed crying within, then opened the door. He went to the crib and looked inside. “Hey,” he whispered, “Hey, it’s okay. Your daddy went to get you a bottle.” 

Peter continued crying – face scrunched tight and red, mouth open and lips quivering. Tony reached down and lightly rubbed at the baby’s stomach. “It’s okay, Peter. Daddy will be here soon.” Peter continued to cry with all his might.

Tony made a noise halfway between desperation and frustration. He reached his other arm down and slipped his hands beneath Peter’s armpits, lifting him up carefully from the mattress. “Hey, c’mon, there’s no need to scream, buddy,” he told the baby with a frown. 

Peter blinked tears away, staring at Tony as he cried, bringing one fist up to his mouth. Tony bit his lip and brought the baby closer, holding him to his chest and shifting his arms accordingly to cradle him there. “Shhh,” he whispered, rubbing at the baby’s back. Tony felt his shirt dampen with tears and drool but ignored it in favor of trying to calm the infant. 

Gently swaying back and forth, Tony closed his eyes and lifted Peter up a bit higher. “Shhh, Peter. It’s okay. You’re okay. So relax before you throw up or something. You don’t need to cry." He whispered whatever soothing things he could think of, knowing Peter couldn’t understand him but hoping for the best all the same. He kept swaying and rubbing Peter’s back, even humming _Star Spangled Man_ in attempt to cease the tears. 

Gradually Peter let up, fists balling up Tony’s shirt in their grip and teary face pressing against Tony’s collar bone. “That’s right,” Tony exhaled with relief. “You’re okay. I got you.” That wasn’t so bad after all. 

The baby sniffled, lightly gasping as he worked to even his breathing. Peter clung to Tony, face pressing into the curve of Tony’s neck and small body fitting perfectly – naturally, in Tony’s arms. Tony held him close, kissing his warm head and keeping his cheek pressed against the fuzz that was Peter’s hair. 

“You’re safe, buddy,” Tony whispered. “Papa’s got you.”


End file.
